


‘Yer a TERF Harry!’

by Glowfooled



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Trans, Gay, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, LGBT, Lesbian Character, Pansexual Character, Queer Character, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowfooled/pseuds/Glowfooled
Summary: When a schoolfriend comes out as trans, Harry is forced to confront his transphobia.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	‘Yer a TERF Harry!’

** ‘Yer a TERF Harry!’ **

‘How do you think they’ll take it?’ she asked.

Hermione paused before responding. For once, she wasn’t quite certain. Harry could grasp certain concepts quickly, but he wasn’t always compassionate when it came to other people’s feelings. He was headstrong and, if he didn’t understand something immediately, he wouldn’t put the work in to figure out another point of view. Ron, as she often said to his face, had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but he wasn’t unkind. And that was the main point at stake here: kindness.

‘I’m friends with them for a reason,’ Hermione said. ‘They’re good people. You’ll see.’

They were in the Boys’ dormitory in the Gryffindor tower. It was a Saturday morning and Ron had slept through breakfast again. At least he’d drawn open the heavy velvet curtains around his four-poster bed and looked almost ready to greet the day, by the time Harry returned from the Great Hall, full of bacon butty. Ron hadn’t brushed his hair or done much dressing, apart from taking off his pyjamas and putting on a pair of Chudley Cannons themed boxers, but he was halfway through brushing his teeth. ‘’Allo, ‘arry,’ Ron said, still with the toothbrush in his mouth, green suds pouring down his chin.

‘Ron, spit it out, for goodness sake,’ said Harry.

Ron spat into the ancient copper sink that was beside the door and inspected his teeth in the mirror. He wasn’t the only one already in the dormitory. It was a full house. This was unusual for a Saturday, when pupils had free reign to do whatever they wanted in the castle or out in the grounds. (As long as it was within the rules of course; the never-ending list that Filch seemed to add to every day.) ‘Seamus wants to talk to us, Harry,’ Ron explained.

‘I’m listening,’ said Harry, flopping down onto his bed.

‘Okay, so,’ said Seamus, glancing nervously at Dean, who nodded in encouragement. ‘I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while. Thing is, I’m trans.’

There was a short pause, which Neville, of all people, was first to break. ‘Oh, like Lesley Rinceshin. That’s a character in the soap opera my grandmother watches called _Witches at Home._ It was a big end of season reveal last summer.’

Dean shook his head in wonder, ‘This is my fifth year at Hogwarts and I still didn’t know there were wizard soap operas!’

Ron was still sitting with his mouth open looking gormless.

‘How can you be sure?’ said Harry.

‘I’m sure,’ said Seamus.

‘Does this mean you want us to call you Sinead now?’ asked Harry.

‘Actually,’ said Seamus, ‘I’ve decided on “Cara”.’

‘Does Dumbledore know?’ demanded Harry.

‘Yes,’ said Cara. ‘He’s been very supportive.’

‘I guess being gay must’ve helped him understand. He’s so old, he was alive way before Stonewall,’ said Dean. Cara, Neville and Ron all looked blank at this reference.

‘Wait, Dumbledore’s gay?’ said Ron.

‘Yes, Ron! Everybody knows Dumbledore’s gay! It’s pretty obvious.’ Harry sighed in frustration. Outside the nearest window he could see owls swooping down, heading off to deliver letters to people’s loved ones. There was sunshine, but Harry could see some grey clouds in the east. He’d better get some quidditch practice in before those clouds moved too close.

‘Wait...’ said Ron, slowly, addressing Cara. ‘Didn’t you used to date Hannah Abbott? You can’t be gay, right?’ He ever so subtly shifted the blanket next to him so that it was covering his boxers.

‘I still fancy girls, if that’s what you’re asking,’ said Cara.

‘There is such a thing as lesbians, Ron,’ said Dean. ‘I’m pretty sure you know that, from some of those magazines you keep under you bed.’

Ron blushed red as a raspberry. ‘Mate, keep your nose out of my stuff.’

‘It’s not your nose that you’re getting out, is it?’ Dean snickered. Neville and Cara joined in laughing at Dean’s cheap attempt at bedroom humour. The tension that Harry had felt in the room had defused. But Harry still felt uneasy. He got up suddenly and moved towards the door.

‘Quidditch practice,’ he called back, before Ron could ask him where he was going. He let the heavy oak door slam behind him and ran down the spiral stairs so fast he felt dizzy by the time he burst out into the Gryffindor common room.

Harry didn’t feel like Quidditch practice, after all. Although flying was good for clearing his head, this was too much to contain and he had to talk to somebody. He went out the huge double doors in front of the castle and ran round into the shadow of the nearest turret. Out of view from prying eyes, he turned to face the wall and whipped the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket. It must’ve been under an excellent preservation charm to protect against tears and creases, because Harry constantly carried it around with him like this. ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good,’ he whispered, pointing his wand at the map. An intricate map of the castle and grounds appeared before him. He looked about for Hermione. Was she in the library? No. That was unusual. Harry tried to think what else she liked to do. Then he chanced up on her name quite near to his own. She was out in the grounds too, beside the lake with Ginny.

Hermione was in the middle of chatting excitedly when Harry appeared. ‘It’ll be so nice not to feel like the third wheel in the dormitory. And you know it really is strange that there’s so few of us-’

‘Hermione, I need to talk to you.’ Harry interrupted.

‘Oh, hi Harry,’ said Ginny.

Hermione smiled. ‘If it’s what I think it is, I already know.’

‘It’s about Seamus,’ said Harry, sitting down on the grass.

‘You mean Cara,’ said Ginny. Harry did a double take.

‘Wait, you all know? Why didn’t he tell us first, we’re his roommates!’

Hermione frowned. ‘Dumbledore talked to Lavender, Parvati and I about it, because Cara’s going be moving into our dormitory. Cara said she wanted to tell you guys herself, but I asked if I could tell Ginny.’

‘And you’re all okay with it?’ said Harry, stunned.

‘It’s not really to do with us,’ said Hermione.

‘But having him in the dormitory,’ said Harry, ‘Is that safe?’

‘Harry! You know Cara. How can you talk like that?’ Hermione looked upset.

‘And you really must get better at pronouns,’ said Ginny. ‘It’s she / her.’

‘Ooh, I could make some badges!’ said Hermione, clapping her hands in excitement.

‘I think you’re missing the point,’ said Harry. ‘We need to talk about this. We can’t just let this happen without examining things first.’

‘I’m sure Dumbledore discussed everything with Cara,’ said Hermione. ‘What do you need to talk about?’

‘I’m just looking out for you, Hermione!’ said Harry, angrily. ‘And you too, Ginny. You know you’ll have to share the girls’ changing rooms with him?’

Ginny burst out laughing. ‘I bet you think it’s all girls walking around in their underwear and soaping each other in the shower, right? Honestly, Harry!’

‘He still fancies girls you know,’ said Harry, ominously.

‘So do I! I’m pansexual,’ snapped Ginny. ‘You think I’m a danger to other girls, is that it?’

‘Oh, no, I mean, that’s different,’ said Harry. This conversation wasn’t turning out the way he’d thought. Hermione and Ginny were usually so smart. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t feel the same way as him.

Ginny stood up. ‘I’m going back to the castle. Bye, Hermione, I’ll see you later.’ She strode off without as much as a look at Harry.

‘ _Goodbye!_ ’ Harry called out pointedly as she left. He turned to Hermione. ‘Did you see that? So rude. She didn’t even say goodbye to me.’

Next week, Harry was sitting alone in the common room, trying to do his Charms homework. On the other side of the room, Hermione and Ginny had joined Cara and Dean for a game of exploding snap. She’d coolly refused when Harry had suggested they do homework together and Harry happened to know that Hermione didn’t even like exploding snap! Harry looked bitterly across the room at Hermione laughing. She must know he was watching. Ron was off snogging Lavender again, but even he seemed unwilling to listen when Harry brought up his criticisms about the Cara situation again. Ginny must’ve got to him.

Harry threw down his quill in frustration. He hadn’t even finished writing the title of his essay, but he had more important things to think about. It was after dinner and Dumbledore was usually in his office at this time, Harry thought. He’d get the headmaster to listen. He had to walk by the four snap players to get to the door. As he passed their table they all burst out laughing. Enraged, Harry turned to confront them. ‘I can hear you, you know!’ he said. There was silence as all four turned to look at him. They were all wearing Hermione’s home-made badges saying _T_ _r_ _ans Rights_ and _SHE/HER_ or _HE/HIM_. Ginny also had one saying _Pa_ _nsexual_ _s_ _R HOT._

 _‘_ What’s up, Harry?’ said Dean, looking puzzled.

‘I know you were laughing at me,’ said Harry.

‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake Harry,’ said Hermione. ‘We were laughing at Cara, not you.’

‘You were?’ said Harry, feeling hopeful.

‘I was just telling them a joke my mother sent me from the owl I got today,’ explained Cara. ‘You want to hear it?’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, deflating once more. ‘No. No, thank you.’ He headed out of the common room, swinging the portrait of the Fat Lady back into place so fast that she toppled back onto a chaise longue, feet in the air. Harry felt sure the headmaster would listen to his concerns, at least. He sped down the moving staircases so quick, it was if the staircases themselves wanted rid of him. As he entered stone corridor leading to Dumbledore’s office, he heard voices. It sounded like a heated argument between the headmaster and Professor Snape. Harry froze. What if it was about him? Snape hated giving Harry occlumency lessons as much as Harry hated receiving them. The voices drew closer and Harry ducked behind the nearby statue of a gargoyle.

‘You don’t seem to understand that I’m not at the service of every werewolf or what-have-you that comes through these doors,’ Professor Snape said darkly.

‘Oh, I understand perfectly, Severus,’ said the headmaster mildly. ‘But may I remind you that, as a teacher of this fine institution, you have sworn to enlighten and protect all students who reside here. Professor Lupin was a favour to me. This time it’s no less than your duty.’ The headmaster stopped walking and eyed Snape over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.

‘But Madam Pomfrey-’ began Snape.

‘Is not up to the task of such advanced potion-making and you know it. Aside from the staff at St Mungo’s, I wouldn’t trust another living soul aside from yourself on this one, Severus.’

Snape scowled, but he did love a compliment. ‘I’ll have it ready by tomorrow afternoon,’ he said. He turned abruptly and stalked off down the corridor, towards the dungeons. Harry didn’t want to leap out from behind the statue right away and reveal that he’d been eavesdropping. For a moment, Harry wondered if Dumbledore was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Then the headmaster was away down the corridor, walking as if enchanted. Mind you, he was well over six feet tall and had way longer legs than Harry.

‘Sir! Sir!’ Harry called after him. Dumbledore pretended not to hear him. ‘I need to talk to you. It’s important sir. About Seamus-’

‘You mean Cara,’ said Dumbledore evenly.

‘About _Cara_ Finnegan, sir,’ said Harry.

‘Professor McGonagall will be available to listen to your… _concerns_ ,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I will hear no more on the matter.’

Harry looked at his watch.It was getting on for half-past nine. Harry knew that Professor McGonagall went to bed at strictly 10pm every night. He’d have to hurry.

‘Of all the most bigoted- Potter, enough!’ Professor McGonagall threw up her hands in frustration. ‘You interrupt my nightly routine for this! I thought better of you, Potter. I expect my Gryffindors to respect their friends and be open-minded.’ She had been in the middle of putting in her curlers when Harry knocked urgently at her door.

‘But Professor,’ said Harry, trying not to sound like he was whining. ‘Gryffindors are supposed to have courage too. And I think a lot of people think like I do. They just don’t have the nerve to speak up about it.’

‘Indeed they don’t,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘And even if they did, thinking the same as other people isn’t always a virtue. One thing this school should teach you is to think for yourself. But remember, it’s as important to think with kindness.’

Harry didn’t know what she was talking about. No one seemed to be very kind to him, Harry. He couldn’t even get them to listen to him.

A few days later Harry noticed a sign announcing a new school club called ‘The Gender Criticals’. The description read that it was being formed as a response to ‘recent events’ and the first meeting was that lunchtime in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry knew that this was what he had been looking for. A place for people who shared his doubts about Cara’s transition really being a positive thing.

Inside the Great Hall, steaming piles of bangers and mash had appeared on all tables. Harry joined his friends in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Hermione was in between Cara and Neville, but Neville had to strain around a pile of books to see her. It looked like Hermione had come straight from the library. ‘I’ve been reading up on the gender transition process for witches and wizards,’ Hermione said proudly. ‘Do you know the potions used today were first invented in the 18th century?’

‘Why can’t you just transfigure yourself?’ asked Ron.

Hermione sighed. ‘Imagine. You remember that terrible shark’s head transfiguration Krum did during the Triwizard tournament? It takes a very skilled witch or wizard to perform full-body transfiguration and, even if possible for a short amount of time, it would take all their energy simply to maintain the magic.’

‘So this potion thing,’ Ron curiously turned to Cara. ‘Is that what Dumby’s got Snape making you?’

Cara blushed but nodded. ‘It tastes like feet. Sweaty feet with a hint of mould.’

Hermione frowned. ‘It shouldn’t have to. It can easily be flavoured without affecting the potency. Snape is cutting corners. It’s just like him to be so spiteful. You should protest!’

Cara shook her head. ‘I’m not rocking the boat. I don’t think he likes having to make it for me.’

Hermione looked dissatisfied with this answer, but Neville distracted her by peering round the tower of books to ask if she had the salt. Harry thought about mentioning his intention to attend The Gender Criticals’ meeting, but dismissed the idea. He wasn’t able to speak freely around his friends now that they’d been indoctrinated like this.

‘I also saw from my research in the librarythat, once you turn seventeen, St Mungo’s are able to complete alteration of your genitals within two months, if you request it.’

Ron spat out a piece of sausage. ‘Hermione! I don’t want to hear about genitals while I’m having lunch!’

‘I think that’s rather transphobic of you Ron,’ said Hermione, coolly. ‘For some of us, it might be important.’ She glanced at Cara for support. Cara turned red again and hurriedly attempted to engage Dean in a conversation about History of Magic homework; apparently forgetting that she’d dropped the subject last year.

Harry got to his feet, excusing himself by muttering about unfinished Transfiguration homework. It was almost one o’clock and The Gender Criticals meeting was up on the fourth floor. Before he headed out of the Great Hall, he caught the glance of Hagrid, who waved enthusiastically from the staff table. Harry felt guilty that he hadn’t seen more of Hagrid this term, outside of Care of Magical Creatures class, and resolved to visit him soon.

The door of the classroom where The Gender Criticals were meeting was still ajar, though Harry could the hear voices of students already inside. He hurried towards it. He stopped short when he reached the threshold and saw who was already inside. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson were seated at the circle of chairs in the middle of the room. Gathered around them were a few more Slytherins Harry vaguely recognised and, looking around nervously at these companions, muggle-born Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchley. At the back of the room, the supervising professor, turning round from writing the name of the club on the blackboard, was none other than Dolores Umbridge. Harry gaped in horror to see so many of his least favourite people in one room. ‘What’s this, Potter?’ sneered Malfoy. ‘Looking for an empty classroom to cry about your dead parents in?’ Malfoy’s jibes hadn’t got any cleverer or subtler in the five years they’d known each other. They didn’t need to be. It was Malfoy’s tone that got to Harry.

‘Shut up, Malfoy,’ said Harry. ‘What is this – the club for little Mummy’s boys?’

‘At least I have a mother, Potter!’ Malfoy snapped back. Malfoy glanced at Crabbe and Goyle and this was apparently the cue for them to get to their feet. Crabbe cracked his knuckles, menacingly. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d have said Crabbe had lifted his entire persona straight from a low-budget muggle action movie. Ignoring the meathead sidekick act, Harry strode forward until he was staring right at Malfoy with his wand raised. At the other end of the room Professor Umbridge was turning away from the blackboard on which she’d written in neatly curling cursive script ‘The Gender Criticals’.

‘10 points from Gryffindor!’ called Umbridge, pointing at Harry. ‘No fighting, Mr Potter!’

Harry bit back a snarl and stormed out the room before Umbridge had the chance to bully him more.

That evening Harry tramped down through the grounds to Hagrid’s hut. The small stone residence had smoke puffing from its chimney, so Hagrid was definitely in for the night.

‘Harry!’ roared Hagrid, throwing his front door wide open in welcome. ‘C’min and sit yerself down, don’ mind Fang now, ‘e still loves to make a racket with visitors.’

Harry went inside and allowed himself to be slobbered on by Hagrid’s huge and soppy boarhound.

‘See! It’s Harry! You know Harry! Aw, look at yeh, now yeh the best o’ friends.’ Hagrid placed his hand on his heart and grinned widely as Fang licked Harry’s hands in supplication.

‘Can we talk?’ said Harry, taking a seat on one of Hagrid’s enormous kitchen chairs.

‘O’ course, Harry!’ said Hagrid, putting the kettle over the fire to boil before sitting down himself. ‘What’s on yer mind?’

‘It’s Shay- it’s about Cara,’ said Harry.

‘Oh, don’ you worry Harry,’ Hagrid beamed. ‘’Ermione told me all about her new name an’ the rest o’ it. Even leant me a book about it. Very kind o’ you to come fill me in all the same.’

‘No, no, that’s not why I came,’ said Harry. ‘I mean, are you really all fine with it?’

Hagrid scratched his beard in thought. ‘Took me a while to wrap me head around, I admit. But I got the hang o’ it. I’ll lend yer the book if yer like.’ He picked up a book from the windowsill, placed it on the table and patted the cover referentially. Harry saw that the cover read “Which Queer is Witch: A Beginner’s Guide to LGBTQ Identities”.

‘I already know what I think!’ said Harry, crossly. ‘And it’s that you can’t just say you’re a girl and move dormitories. I can’t believe Parvati and Lavender haven’t complained. They’re probably too scared, so someone should speak for them.’

‘Yer a TERF, Harry!’ exclaimed Hagrid.

‘I’m a… what?’ said Harry.

‘A “Trans-Ex-Radical-Feminist” it stands for,’ said Hagrid. ‘No, wait, tha’ might not be right. Somethin’ like it. Basically, means you don’ accept trans people. But there’s no reason to be a bad friend Harry, I know you’re better than that.’

‘But… Don’t you think it’s a bit… icky?’

Hagrid looked at Harry and a shadow passed over his face. ‘Yeah, I know about icky. “Icky” is why no one sat next to me on me first day at Hogwarts, Harry. Why when I was out with me da’ to buy me wand at Ollivander’s, some old wizard spat at me in the street. It’s not easy to disguise being a half-giant. “Icky” is why if it weren’t for Dumbledore, I reckon I would’nt’ve made it this far.’

‘But, that’s not...’ Harry gasped. The thought of anyone being cruel to Hagrid made his blood boil. ‘But that’s different. You were born that way.’

‘Harry, Harry. Who’s to say Cara weren’t born how she is, eh? Have rock cake, go’an.’

Harry accepted the rock cake, which was the size of a small turtle. He tried to break it in half, but only succeeded in chipping his fingernails.

‘Everyone seems to be acting as it’s all perfectly normal,’ complained Harry.

‘Wha’s that?’ asked Hagrid, refilling his mug with hot tea. ‘At least the Order of the Phoenix knows that Voldemort’s back. Some people believe you Harry.’

‘No, I mean about Cara being a girl now,’ said Harry.

‘Oh.’ Hagrid scratched his beard thoughtfully. ‘I reckon that’s not the strangest thing that’s going on these days, to be honest with yer Harry. Now hang on a minute.’ Hagrid removed a stray bowtruckle from the windowframe and carefully put it outside. When he got back to the table, he laid a big hand on Harry’s shoulder and said kindly, ‘Harry, best thing to do is mind yer own business. Don’ take it personally, but this ain’t yer story.’

Cara and Dean were hiding from Hermione in a disused classroom on the fourth floor. Cara was grateful that Hermione was so supportive of her, she really was. It was just that, Cara didn’t feel that they were the kind of friends who should talk about spells involving their genitals with one another. She wasn’t sure she was ready to have that kind of conversation with anyone and Hermione was not always great at understanding people’s boundaries, although she’d probably read a book on how to.

‘She must’ve stopped looking for you by now,’ said Dean. They had finished their third game of gobstones and were running out of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. It was time to head back to the Gryffindor tower. It was a relief for Cara not to have to go to the boys’ dormitory and pretend to be someone she was not. Hermione could be over-enthusiastic, but she was still better than Ron and his fragile masculinity that threatened to turn toxic and Harry’s self-absorbed blindness to anyone’s problems but his own. If it hadn’t been for Dean’s friendship, Cara didn’t know how she would’ve survived in that dormitory as long as she had. They’d quickly bonded over being the outsiders. Cara was trans, gay and Irish. Dean was black, bi and muggle-born. Dean had come out last year when he took a boy from Hufflepuff to the Yule Ball. It wasn’t anything like being the first trans person to come out while still at Hogwarts, but at least he knew what it was like to have people staring.

Cara said the current password ‘Coddleboggin’ to the portrait of the Fat Lady and the painting swung back so that they could enter the common room. It was pretty empty inside as it was late enough that most people were in bed. Those perennial night owls the Weasley twins were in the corner, being uncommonly quiet and muttering secretively. Three first years were hunched over parchment rolls at a table by the window. They were looking worried, with library books spread higgledy-piggledy beside. It looked like they were about to pull their first all-nighter. One of Snape’s ghastly essays no doubt. Cara smiled ruefully; little did they know that first year didn’t matter anyway and grades were merely a formality at that age. As she turned away she noticed Harry Potter in one of the comfy chairs by the fireplace. He beckoned her over as if he had been waiting for her to arrive.

‘Hi Harry,’ she said, moving closer, the hint of a question in her tone. Harry had been awkward around her recently. This in turn made her feel awkward around him; it was one vicious circle.

‘I thought we could talk,’ said Harry, looking at her right earlobe.

Cara paused, her heart sinking. It was late and she was tired. The last thing she wanted to do was have a heart to heart with Harry Potter.

‘I’m off to bed,’ said Dean, beside her. ‘Night Harry. See you tomorrow, Cara.’

‘I’m kind of exhausted too,’ said Cara, honestly. ‘Catch you tomorrow, Harry?’

‘Oh, right,’ said Harry, sounding put out. ‘I guess so.’

Cara climbed the stairs to the fifth year girls’ dormitory. She felt she might’ve missed out on a dramatic moment there, but dramatic moments were the last thing she needed right now. What she needed was a good night’s sleep. She entered the room and pulled the heavy velvet curtains close around her four-poster bed. For once in her life she fell asleep without effort.


End file.
